There Is Something So Much More Interesting
by Agentsofsuperwholocked
Summary: The week was not going well for Jemma Simmons at this point. And it was only Monday. Just after 11am on Monday. And already Jemma wanted the week to end.


**Based on when I had a bad week in March. Basically most of the things that happened to Jemma happened to me. And this was how I dealt. Hope you enjoyed!**

The week was not going well for Jemma Simmons at this point. And it was only Monday. Just after 11am on Monday. And already Jemma wanted the week to end. Her first class had been field tactics. Working in the field was _not_ something that she did not want to do at all. The field terrified her, the constant danger was not something that she wanted to live with, oh no. Jemma Simmons liked the comfort of her non-mobile lab, tucked away somewhere safe. But the class, one term of it anyway, was compulsory for all cadets at the Academy. The lesson that day had simply went over her head, any notes that they had to make did not make sense, the words just did not register as words to her.

And then after that, she hit her forehead of the corner of a shelf. And it hurt. It really, really hurt. She was thankful that there had been no one there to see her to do it, and fight back the tears that had started to form.

After the shelf incident, she made her way to Advanced Medicinal Biochemistry and Its Functions, her file heavy under her arm. All she wanted to do was to finish her latest project, hoping that the work that she was doing would be worthy to give her the second PhD that she so desired. Except the deadline was that weekend, and she still had to edit over one fifty pages left to edit before it could be handed in. And she was running out of time. Stress was all that she knew when it came to this and Fitz surely must be annoyed of her by now.

Fitz. She couldn't help but smile at the thought. Fitz. He was perfect. So smart and so handsome. And her best friend. Everyone said that they were physically linked, one being able to finish the other's sentences as though it were nothing. They had their occasional spat, most people did but they worked so well together that Jemma wondered why they had spent so long avoiding each other. _It was because he hated you_ her mind screamed at her. She shook at thought from her as she took her seat in the lab, opening the file again and putting in her ear phones. The best thing about being what most people referred to as a genius and a prodigy, no one paid much attention to her. They thought her annoying, and she supposed that she was. She had spent weeks following Fitz around like she was some long lost puppy….

Turning up the music, she started to work her way through her notes. She didn't know how long had passed until she felt someone shaking her shoulder. "Simmons!" It was Fitz. "Jemma, you missed lunch," he explained as she removed the ear buds.

"Oh," she whispered as Fitz began to slide her notes back into their correct place. There were few people that she would have trusted to handle her notes, and Fitz was at the top of that list. "Come on you," he said, offering his hand. She accepted it with a shy smile.

By Friday, Jemma had had very little sleep, and was snapping at anyone who said anything to her. Fitz had been on the receiving end of the line. Far, far, far too many times. And yet, he still didn't get angry. He just made her a mug of tea, and when she fell asleep, he carried her to bed.

But she had finished. All she had to do was finish it. She had stayed late that day to try and finish it. Once she had, Fitz got the first text. Just one that was simple. Done. That's all that it had said. Done. But that's all that had needed to be said.

Even though it was evening, there was still a lot of activity within the Academy, and she couldn't help the smile that graced her face when she handed in the file to Agent Weaver.

"Well done Cadet Simmons," Weaver said, accepting the file and placing it on her desk. "First one done."

Jemma raised an eyebrow. "Ma'am, was Agent Johnson not here earlier."

Weaver gave a shake of her head. "Agent Johnson was asking to extend her deadline. You know what she's like, always leaving work to the last minute."

"Oh," Jemma gave, and the look on Weaver's face eased as she noticed just how tired the young Brit looked.

"Go home Cadet Simmons," she commanded in that subtle way that she did. Weaver was strict and stern, something that Jemma liked but there were a few agents that she had a soft spot. Everyone said, well whispered behind her back, that she herself was one of the agents she had a soft spot for, but Jemma had always dismissed it. What was there about herself that Weaver would have a soft spot? "Get a good night's sleep and I'll see you Monday."

"Yes ma'am," Jemma nodded as she left the room. Checking the time, Jemma saw that it was now approaching seven so phoning Fitz was now her main priority.

"Fitz," she greeted once he picked up on the first ring. "Hi, I am heading home. Pizza or Chinese?"

There was silence on the other end of the line. "Where are you?"

"Leaving now. Be home in about ten?"

"Pizza then," Fitz answered and Jemma thought she heard something suspicious and uneasy in his voice but she just shook it of as nothing to worry about. "See you in ten. I'll order it then, the usual?"

"Of course," she replied, her smile getting bigger. "I shall see you then."

Silence on the end of the line prompted her to put her phone back in her pocket and she reached into her bag and brought out her scarf, wrapping it tight around her neck and flipping up her collar to try and fight the bitter wind of early spring. All she wanted to do was get home, eat pizza and hopefully binge watch Doctor Who with Fitz.

When she got home, she found all the lights out and a familiar scent filling the rooms. Had Fitz gone out? He couldn't have? Could he? The pizza would be there in about fifteen minutes, it always took twenty five minutes for the pizza to get to their apartment. "Fitz?" she called out as she hung up her coat and making her way into the kitchen and found that there were candles set up on the table, and Fitz was turning around from the oven, scooping food onto two separate plates. "I made that pasta dish that you love," he told her, setting the cutlery down and pulling out a chair. "I know just how hard you've been working and how much you love…"

"Cheesy tortellini with sun dried tomatoes and broccoli," she said as she sat down and allowed him to set the plate down. "It's simple."

He shrugged, setting his own plate down and then going into the fridge for something. A bottle of champagne. "Fitz!" she cried out.

"What?" he asked, popping the cork, and reaching into the cupboard for two glasses. "We're both eighteen, technically we are legal."

"In the UK! Not the USA!"

He shrugged again. "It's one drink. It won't mean anything. Plus you deserve it. This is your treat. You worked hard. You need a break."

As her thoughts flashed across her face he handed her the drink, sitting down himself. "To Dr Dr Jemma Simmons," he toasted raising his glass.

Jemma closed her eyes, sighing. "I've not gotten it yet."

"Nonsense, you'll get it, why wouldn't you?"

"Because I am not…"

"No." She didn't even need to finish for him to know what she going to say. "You are good enough. You came here at sixteen, you're better than half the people here." There was a steely determination in his eyes. "To Dr Dr Jemma Simmons. The greatest mind of the century."

She couldn't help but laugh at this, allowing herself to toast to him as well.

Later that night, she lay curled up against him on the shoulder, with Fitz trying to find something to watch.

"What about this?" Fitz asked, bringing up the information to some bad horror film.

She shook her head, looking up to him and immediately losing herself in those blue, blue eyes. "Do we have to?"

"Why?" he asked, sitting up and re-positioning herself. He took the drink of her (was it her third? Or her fourth? It didn't matter anyway, Jemma Simmons could hold her drink.)

"There's something so much more interesting that that stupid shark film…"

"Horror films aren't… that's besides that point but what's so interesting?"

"You," she whispered, taking her hand in his own.

"Jems," he whispered back, scared that she was actually drunk and that he was going to cross far too many boundaries. But finding her as interesting as she found him. "Are you…"

She shook her head. "I am as sober as I ever was…." Then she leaned forward, and he leaned in to meet her and their lips met, tenderly dancing over each other.

It was a number of hours later that Jemma lay curled up in his arms, asleep, her chest rising gently before falling again. As Fitz watched her, completely mesmerized by her, wondering what he ever did to deserve someone so perfect when she shuffled in her sleep, burrowing deeper into her shoulder.

Before falling asleep himself, he placed a kiss on her forehead.

 **This was supposed to be canon compliant but** ** _*shrugs*_** **Oh well. Hope you enjoyed this one!**


End file.
